


Substance, Evidence

by jenni3penny



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 12:37:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18469129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenni3penny/pseuds/jenni3penny
Summary: Post ep to 'Perennial', S16E19. Jack/Gibbs friendship. They mentioned 'Hope' & 'Faith' so often... I couldn't help this.





	Substance, Evidence

Faith is the evidence of things unseen?

No, not for her. It can't be that sweet a thing.

Pain. _Pain_ is the evidence of things unseen (because it means she's still alive). Pain and the feeling of vacancy.

“We really never having a drink again?” Mr. Tall, Glowering and Handsome usually looks better to her when he leans along her door frame, arms crossed. Tonight she just… isn't registering much, she isn't in the mood. He can still look just as appetizing and she can still decide she's not all that hungry. “Sure I can't change your mind?”

“Not tonight, Gibbs.” She literally has a headache, a radiating ache that starts at the top of her neck and volleys up the back of her head. There's a throb right behind her eyes that says it can get a whole hell of a lot more serious if she turns her head too fast or too far.

She's got the beginning of a migraine and she's fairly sure that he didn't stop by her office to try and relieve it.

Far more likely that he's about to make it ten times worse.

“Sloane… you were a roadblock. I needed to move you. You can't take it personally when it's - ”

“It's not you, okay? It's not that,” she tosses off, both hands lifting in defense and stalling his gruffness. He's so aggressive some days, so sharp, so _Gibbs_. “It's Faith.”

He blinks, understanding taking over his face as he realizes where she's been, why she hasn't been in her office. His features soften and she imagines it's because she looks like hell, beaten-down-blank. She's been crying and she can feel the thinness of the skin beneath her eyes as he squints and studies her. Her head is thump-thumping a solid bass line that isn't helping.

“Wasn't gonna push you on that.”

“Oh, really?” she motions from him to herself, a mock look of surprise made over her features. “Because here we are.”

“I'm gonna assume that you getting confrontational every time I show concern is your pride gettin’ an attitude,” he says, deadpan. There's no intimation of emotion there now, no more softness. There's nothing she can use against him in an argument that she can't win. She's already lost to him, with him. “And not actually anything that I've done.”

Jack shrugs a shoulder in deference, half avoiding the way he's watching her as she blinks against light sensitivity. Her chin nears her shoulder as she reaches to her left and lifts the pillow that had been dumped beside her. “That was freakishly astute coming from you.”

“I _am_ astute,” he answers quietly, sitting gingerly after she motions him down. She doesn't give up the pillow, though. Not at first. She keeps it hugged into her chest as she continues to avoid blue eyes. “Four wives. Gimme some credit.”

He's right. And she knows that he is, and she knows that she's being supremely unfair - and especially when he's just trying to smooth the wrinkles in her emotions. He's making reparations for earlier and she needs his calm stoicism, maybe. Just to balance how emotional the day has been. His sturdiness becomes a stanchion of strength beside her, gives her something to hold on to as the headache swamps her a little deeper.

God, he's such a touchstone for her these days. So much so that it's possibly ( _probably_ ) becoming problematic. He's also been right way too often for her comfort. “That is true.”

But her gut is still sore from getting kicked right in it and she's got a penchant for starting fights when wounded or trapped. She's had plenty of practice at being an irascible hostage. History says that questioning soon becomes interrogation, which leads to aggression and violence. She's had practice at finding the most miniscule comfort in otherwise tortuous situations, ample practice. It's why she's still hugging a pillow and she makes a small sighed noise as he leans back on the couch beside her.

His arm goes outstretched behind her and she shudders out a long exhalation as she drops back. She keeps her eyes shut to avoid both the overhead lighting and him. Her head rests back against his forearm and it's the only contact she can afford because she really, _really_ , doesn't wanna cry in front of him. Not again. Her pride couldn't take that in addition to the rest of the day’s mortification.

Her _pride_ … That's what he thinks is making her act like a cornered cat?? Sure, all right, probably... but he's only fifty percent correct.

Because the other half of it is just this piece of something indecipherable, something attached deep to the bottom of a dry well inside of her, something that hasn't stopped _screaming_ for decades. She's heard it since always and it's been getting all the louder for years, since…

Since Faith took her first wail out on the world.

“She's right. I abandoned her,” she whispers into the otherwise quiet room. They're close enough that she can hear his breathing, can hear him purse his lips and exhale through his nose and, unbidden, she suddenly thinks of Kelly. She mentally sees Kelly's loving scribbles across the ornaments she had studied on his Christmas tree and she feels like an epic pile of shit for it, for all of it.

She feels suddenly small and selfish. “I can't explain this to you, Gibbs.”

“You don't have to,” he assures her and, _oh_ , it's so sincere, so understanding. It’s their entire friendship wrapped up just by the way he says it. It's also not _at all_ what she meant. She doesn't usually seem to have a problem opening her mouth and spilling out all her secrets to him, obviously.

It's not her history that stops her.

It's _his_.

“No, I mean… I chose to give her up. You weren't given a choice.”

He flinches but the only reason she realizes it is the flex and release in his forearm before he exhales a sigh. “Apples and oranges, Jack.”

“Not really.” Her head presses back against him to emphasize how serious she is. “Daughters are daughters.”

“Some have their lives taken from them,” he says with such a hush that she can hear him swallow before he continues, his throw having a hard time of it. “And some are _given_ a better life. Y’did better by her.”

She was given the gift of seeing how beautifully her daughter had grown, even if it wasn't the outcome she had hoped for… He deserves that gift more than she does and she hates herself just a little bit, knowing that he'll never have the same opportunity.

“How'd you figure it out?” she asks, giving him a searching look.

He half smiles and she watches him decide to tell her the truth instead of just waving her off. It's a decision that she can see made just by watching his eyes and feeling him half shrug. “Did a little digging after you told me. Knew her name when I saw it on the civilian employee registration. Tim and Kasie caught her ID tag, though.”

She can't help the tired smile that sweeps over her lips in response, the way it brightens her eyes and crinkles up her nose a little. She's surprised and amused and charmed at once. One eyebrow goes up as she studies him, her eyes on his as he shrugs it off with mild embarrassment.

She's trapped him into admitting that he's more than just interested, that he felt compelled to investigate further, to do his research. She's trapped him in mild flirtation and she loves to fluster him. It's not easy but it's usually more than worth the effort.

“It's my job,” is the only reasoning ( _excuse_ ) he gives her at first. At least until she shifts enough to turn her head sideways against his arm, cheek pressing the fabric of his jacket.

“Plus I worry about her mother,” he adds gently, head turned toward her as he confesses.

“Yeah?” she asks with a happy little lift of her jaw.

“Sometimes,” he admits without shame, openly meeting her glance. There's blatant affection there but she can only just barely read it. Sometimes he's such an open book to her - and sometimes she gets utterly lost when he looks at her. “Little worried right now.”

She shuts her eyes with a half a smile and rests her head, but she feels the smile fall. She doesn't have the energy to keep it up and, honestly, she knows Gibbs can see right through it anyhow. He lets her stay hushed at first and she can feel him relax with her, their bodies settling even deeper into the couch as she sighs.

“Faith is the substance of things hoped for,” she whispers the quoted scripture tiredly, eyes still shut, “the evidence of things unseen.”

It's something she doesn't remember learning, that verse. Not how she's learned it or even when. But it's been rattling around in her head for years now, decades. It comes and goes…

“That she is.” His voice is steady, quiet but unwavering and she can feel him take a deep breath beside her. “She's strong. Strong willed too, I take it.”

Jack just shakes her head minutely against him, pursing her lips as she exhales through her nose. “I take no credit for that.”

“Maybe you should,” he counters. “It's gonna take time. She doesn't know you, Jack. She only knows your absence.”

The weight of truth presses on her, puts her shoulders lower as she buries her face into his inner sleeve. Fuck, she doesn't wanna cry. Not with him, not this time. But truth tells her out, even as she rubs her eyes into his jacket. “She doesn't wanna know me, Gibbs.”

“Be patient.”

“I know she's safe. I can live with that,” she answers, whispering just as quietly as he had. She unconsciously knows that he never closed her office door behind him and she appreciates him keeping the conversation quiet. She's confused, though, when she looks up. There's such a sharply sardonic look on his face that she gets defensive without even realizing why. “What?”

“Just wondering what makes you think you can lie right to my face like that,” he teases as his face softens, the accusation gone more mischievous than anything.

She snorts a half laugh for him, trying to meet his effort as she shrugs and wipes at the dampness on his jacket. “I have to try. It's what she wants.”

“You tell Leon how it went?”

“What _is it_ with you two?” She finally fully laughs as she slaps at his chest, lifting him a bemused glance and finding him watching her with a smile. It's not his usual grin but something that glitters almost as brightly. It's not humored but loving, affectionate. Regardless of what their relationship may or may not be, he does care about her. That much she can see as he sits comfortably beside her, offering more than just a shoulder to cry on. “ _Honestly_ … you're idiots.”

“Nothing makes two single men more competitive than a beautiful _uninterested_ woman.”

She doesn't believe for a moment that they're both romantically interested in her - or interested in competing over her either. Not that she would ever want them to - it's sophomoric and tiring and not at all what they're about. But she does believe the warmth of his teasing, the depth of their combined adoration. Having friends like them makes her life colorful and… _safe_. They make her secure. Security isn't something she finds easily, either. Not anymore.

There aren't another two other men on the planet she'd want in their stead…

They _are_ her faith, her evidence.

“I never said I wasn't interested. Just… _timing_.” It's said with a nod, eyes meeting his brighter glance. She watches him study her, watches his eyes flick from hers to her mouth and then back up. Just that fraction of a moment, that movement, it warms her chest from inside outward. “Raincheck on the drink, Gibbs?”

He nods sharply and gives her leg a squeeze, pulling from behind her so that he can stand. “Yup. You know how to find me.”

Jack watches him wave his goodnight, otherwise silent as he heads for her door, “That I do, Agent Gibbs.”

**Author's Note:**

> "Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things unseen."  
> Hebrews, 11:1


End file.
